


Change In Rank

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Discord Drabble, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Public Sex, blowjob, its not short but I enjoy alliteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: It’s one of those nights where music plays from the other side of the room. Kinkade has his hands under James’ shirt as they kiss each other’s lips red and shiny, and he’s about to roll them over when James pulls back.“Why are you always on top?”





	Change In Rank

**Author's Note:**

> More for the Rymes/Griffkink fandom! Under-edited once again.

It’s not that Kinkade starts treating him differently when James is made leader of the MFEs. 

Rizavi salutes him and calls him boss man, albeit a little sarcastically. Leif is more or less the same, but she does speak to him more formally during team meetings. Even Keith, who was _somehow_ made leader of his own team (consisting of the loud lanky cargo pilot, the big guy who gets motion sickness and Sam Holt’s daughter [who let her move up the ranks like this]) grumbles at him as something of an equal. 

But Kinkade treats him the same. And James doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

They’ve had this Thing going on a year now. James doesn’t wanna call it dating, because that adds another layer of emotions he’s not ready to acknowledge yet. Dating is cute dates and pet names and soul bearing. Not something they can really do confined to the base surrounded by other cadets and officers. But they eat meals together, and Kinkade lets him sleep on his shoulder, and when they’re tangled underneath the sheets he whispers soft words neither of them speak about in the morning. 

… they’ve had this Thing going on a year now, and James doesn’t want to feel anything about Kinkade’s lack of change. But he does. And it starts to spill over into Their Time. 

It’s hard sharing a room with your team, especially since two fourths of them are kinda maybe dating. But last off campus trip James got Nadia and Leif noise canceling headphones. He and Kinkade have a signal for when they plan on doing things. And the four of them are so close that even if the girls do see or hear anything they aren’t bothered. (James will always turn red at being called out but that doesn’t stop him at any cost)

It’s one of those nights where music plays from the other side of the room. Kinkade has his hands under James’ shirt as they kiss each other’s lips red and shiny, and he’s about to roll them over when James pulls back. 

“Why are you always on top?” 

Kinkade pauses, the odd question leaving his hands motionless. “You can ride me tonight if you want, I don’t mind.”

James tries not to blush. “That’s not what I meant! Whenever we’re making out you always climb over me and pin me down an—“

“Cause you’re into it.”

James bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from pouting. It wasn’t his fault Kinkade was so BIG. He was warm and smelled nice and his hands were crafted by god himself it seemed because he expertly handled his weapon and also James’ body like they were both made for him. 

Hell maybe they were. 

“You don’t respect me as team leader.” That isn’t what James planned on saying AT ALL but it comes out fast and petulant and he refuses to take it back. He’s got too much pride to admit to that mistake. 

Kinkade chuckles, thawing out. His lips find that spot on James’ neck that makes him twitch and blush and he kisses it slow and sweet. “You’re a good leader, Griffin. On the battlefield.”

“But here? I’m in charge.” 

The world around them grows quiet. 

James doesn’t notice Kinkade moving until their noses are almost touching. He’s on his back now, legs splayed out to accommodate Kinkade’s hips. His shirt is gone in seconds, Kinkade’s even faster. James’ brain kickstarts enough to get his hands on his boxers, but strong hands stop him short. 

“No.”

That one word is enough to send heat along every nerve in his body. 

Kinkade, James thinks absently, is really fucking beautiful. It’s never truly dark in the dorms, and the low low lighting makes his skin glow, lights up his eyes. His smirk is ethereal, threatening and alluring all at once. 

“You can tell me what to do in the simulations.”

James isn’t ready for the hand that holds him down, for the fingers that gently squeeze his neck as Kinkade grinds down against him. James never went soft even with all of his pouting, and it takes no time to get him hard again. 

“You can lecture me about my uniform in front of Iverson.”

He tries to plant his feet on the bed, tries to rock up against the hard outline in Kinkade’s boxers, but then strong fingers press down on his hip, keeps him pinned. He swallows, and Kinkade grips his neck a little harder. He wants to close his eyes, turn his head to look away, to gather himself again. But Kinkade doesn’t let him. 

“But like this?” He rolls his hips hard and slow, let’s his lips part because he knows how obsessed James is with his mouth. He bites down on his plush bottom lip and grunts, hips jerking forward like he’s just as affected as his leader. By part of James knows it’s an act. He’s had first hand experience with Kinkade’s stamina and it’s impressive. Dangerously impressive. 

“You answer to me, *Officer Griffin*.”

James whines. 

It’s not quiet like a sigh or a whimper. It’s loud like a moan, a needy sound that shows in the way he hooks his knee around Kinkade’s hip. He can’t beg, he can’t lower himself to that now. His pride is on the line and come morning, with the light of day, he’ll need to look his teammate in the eye. He has to last. 

His boxers are soaked, precum seeping through the fabric so that it sticks and strings to Kinkade’s thumb when he rubs over the tip. James gasps at how sensitive he is. He’s never like this, and Kinkade knows. Tonight is not their usual grind and the unknown twists his insides with fear and anticipation. 

“Do you know,” Kinkade muses, squeezing his shaft in fleeting presses of his fingers, never his whole hand, “how cute you look barking orders? How pink your face gets when Iverson favors you?”

“Shut up, I do not.”

“Mm nah you do.” Kinkade isn’t holding him down anymore but James doesn’t move. He keeps his hands up by his head, keeps his body as still as he can. “It’s almost as cute as the way you look when Shirogane radios in and says your name directly.”

“Yes, General Shirogane, I’m doing my very best Shiro.” Kinkade mocks in a voice that sadly resembles James quite a bit. “You get all starry eyed when you see him.”

James can’t react fast enough, because the second he opens his mouth Kinkade opens his. His mouth is hot, burning even through the cotton, and he isn’t shy about getting it wet. By the time he’s done his boxers are transparent, James’ cock displayed beneath white fabric. . 

“You’d follow my orders before you followed his, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes!” James gasps, pulling at his hair. 

James has never been very religious but right now he thinks he could worship the man pinning him to his bed. If Kinkade told him to pray he’d get down on his knees

On his knees 

Kinkade 

He wants Kinkade to make him get on his knees. 

“Please.” James feels defeat wash over him like a wave. He’s wound like a spring ready to fly off into space. “I-I.. I want—“ He stops himself and takes a breath, Kinkade’s earlier words flashing light neon lights. Kinkade waits patiently, knuckles stroking along James’ sternum. 

“What do you want me to do?”

James hates how happy he is that Kinkade looks pleased. 

“Open your mouth.”

James stares up at him, eyebrow cocked in question. Kinkade grins, a soft expression on his normally neutral face. It’s terribly disarming, 

Kinkade grips his chin and tips his head back, green eyes intense as he lowers himself to hover inches above his face. James sticks his tongue out, wiggling it in mirth. Kinkade hums, “Cute,” before his fingers tighten to near bruising. 

James holds his breath. 

He watches, transfixed, as a long, glistening strand of spit dr-dri-drips down from Kinkade’s mouth to land on his outstretched tongue. He’s frozen, arousal burning under his skin, tremors shaking his legs. Kinkade doesn’t bother wiping his mouth as he pulls away, and so the strand follows until it breaks and lands warm on James’ chest. 

He *aches*. He’s so hard he can feel his cock throb to the rhythm of his pulse. If he were still wearing his shirt he would’ve sweated through it, and everywhere his skin touches Kinkade’s feels like fire. A sweet heat burning straight through him. 

Kinkade starts shuffling up his torso, straddling him with a thick thigh on either side, and James finally *finally* moves. He drags Kinkade closer, fingers digging into the meat of his ass. He keeps his mouth open and his jaw relaxed, doesn’t even try to bite the fingers that pull on his tongue and explode the soft insides of his cheeks. 

This isn’t about denying James, not entirely. When Kinkade said he was in charge, he meant it. He wasn’t just in charge of when James got off, because that was still about James. He was in charge of what James did, what *they* did in bed, and right now his only purpose was to follow orders. 

And he was *very* good at following orders. 

So he waits. 

He waits for Kinkade to guide his cock into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow him down right away like he wants to. He doesn’t turn over and rut into the sheets like he wants to. He doesn’t beg Kinkade to *please please fuck me Ryan* like he wants to. God does he *want*

He sucks on the head of his cock with purpose, wetting the tip with his tongue in a way that’s almost calming. Kinkade feeds him slowly, rocking back every time James gets a little too bold; fingers inching towards his hole or a hand smoothing down his hip to his balls. Kinkade cradles the back of his head, his other hand playing with his hair. 

“Think the girls can hear us?” He asks, gesturing with his head without looking away from James. He doesn’t seem bothered by the idea, hips snapping forward with an almost imperceptible sigh. 

James moans, loudly, the sound aborted by Kinkade’s cock hitting the back of his throat. 

He wants. 

James lifts his head to meet Kinkade’s next shallow thrust, gagging at the sudden impact but no slower because of it. It isn’t easy to bob his head at this angle, his abs screaming and his core being tested, but Kinkade is slipping. He tugs James closer by his hair and holds him still, soft grunts falling from parted lips. 

He wants. 

James looks up at Kinkade, holds his gaze for a long moment between them. Then he closes his eyes and lets the tension leave his body. He’s pliant under his teammate’s hands, willing and warm and—

Thick. Kinkade seems to grow even harder as he takes what James is offering. He’s less careful now, moving higher on James’ body to press in deeper, hold him still for long. James takes deep breaths through his nose, the fingers of one hand locked in an iron grip around Kinkade’s wrist. He wants to ask for rougher, faster, but they aren’t alone. There’s only so much they can cover up with the girls, there's only so much they can do stuck where they are. 

But if they weren’t? If James could have this off of Garrison property? Someplace where no one knew them, no one they knew was watching them, where people would cheer if Kinkade forced him to his knees in the street, or dragged him away from a table to the bathroom. If James could give himself over to this feeling for more than just one night?

Fuck. 

*He wants* and his desperation shows. He can’t keep still, hips rolling against air, frustrated little twitches and long, needy arches that stretch his muscles and lift Kinkade up off of his knees for long seconds at a time. He’s *crying*, tears streaming down his cheeks even as he encourages for *more more more*. James wants his jaw to ache in the morning. He wants his voice to rasp and crack when he salutes the other officers. He wants every swallow to be a memory, a physical mark that can’t be hidden by their uniforms. 

James is ready to stop, to back out of this and beg or waddle his way to the bathroom to finish himself off. He’s lightheaded, too warm, fingers clumsy as he strokes the small of Kinkade’s back with shaking fingers. He doesn’t think he can handle any more. He doesn’t think he can keep going. He doesn’t—

And then everything changes. The earth slows to a screeching halt and every creature in the universe draws in a collective breath. 

Kinkade moans. 

Kinkade. *Moans*. 

James has to squeeze his cock so hard it hurts to keep himself from cumming. Kinkade pulls out a second later, leaving James to cough and gasp and do nothing about the drool and precum that coat his chin. 

“Do you wanna cum?” *Fuck* does he sound good, voice deep and raspy like he’s the one who got wrecked. 

Yesterday James would’ve kicked him for asking something like that, but tonight he has to restrain himself from nodding like a bobble head. “I want what you want,” he croaks, dried tears and warm fluids covering his face. He feels like he’s a breath away from burning up into jet fuel. 

“Then take these off.” Kinkade helps him with his boxers, ripping them off his his legs once James oh so carefully pushes them down past his cock. He’s angry red, slick and harder than he’s ever been. No wonder he’s so dizzy, all of his blood went straight south! 

Kinkade takes himself in hand and fucks into his fist, the slick sounds his hand makes sending heat flooding to James’ face. He hold James’ hip in hand and rubs the head of his cock along his shaft, a low groan filling the room as he spills onto James’ cock. He takes hold of James before he can move to do it himself and uses his cum to slick the way, murmuring praise the entire time. 

“C’mon, Jay, been so good for me, let me see you, babe.”

James has the foresight to bite down on his fist, but that doesn’t even matter when his moan falls short of a wail. These walls aren’t soundproof, and no matter how expensive those headphones were he’s certain that their teammates can hear when he cums, back arching off the bed, crying out to the ceiling and sky and universe above in anguished gratitude. He bets any passing satellites pick up his hitched breaths, the way he begs for more, oversensitive to the point of incoherency. It’s so fucking good it feels like ascending to another plane of existence. 

It feels endless, this warm white haze he’s found himself in. The world is under water and he’s flying, his soul somewhere above the clouds. He doesn’t registered movement, hands wiping him down or petting through his hair. Something warm and solid slides under his cheek and he clings, locking his legs around the closest moving object. The world falls quiet once more. For a little while. 

“What do you say?” The voice is soft in his ear, like the hands that rub his back and hold him close. It takes James a while to find speech again, and then a little longer to gather the energy to slur into the shoulder by his lips. 

“Thank you.” The words are sincere in their heaviness, soft in their utterance and warm in the way that everything is always warm with Ryan. 

“Good boy.”


End file.
